


Someone to Sit in Your Chair

by eaglesflying



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: BSHCI, Chilton needs a hug or two, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protectiveness, Season 2 related but AU, Slow Build, So does Will
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-26
Updated: 2018-04-08
Packaged: 2019-04-08 16:19:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 5,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14109258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eaglesflying/pseuds/eaglesflying
Summary: Frederick Chilton turned out to be a better psychiatrist than any of them assumed. (And he got a cat.)





	1. Someone to Pull You Up Short

**Author's Note:**

> From the days Will spent under Chilton's care at BSHCI to the days when their roles were reversed (post-Yakimono).  
> AU to Season 2 but still more or less related.
> 
> Un-betaed, not first language.
> 
> All titles are from Sondheim's "Being Alive". Sue me.

 

Will stood in the cold clear stream of Virginia’s February, facing the same direction the water ran towards. The mountain a constant, gentle pressure behind his neck. Sometimes Abigail was here with him, smiling and breathing and fumbling with a fly rod, those were the days Will woke up with a scream and bile stuck in his throat. But not today. Today was a rather good day, one that wasn’t filled with those looks — worry and accusation in Alana’s eyes, mistrust and guilt in Jack’s, smugness and curiosity in Chilton’s. And the dead red eyes of Hannibal. Will was so, so tired of those. 

A mist rose from the water. Today, Will didn’t need Abigail to drum out those ugly shades of emotions that didn’t belong to him. He let the winter sun shine through the woods for a while, the mist turned golden. He thought of catching a beautiful rainbow trout and his stomach grumbled a little. He opened his eyes and wondered if he could offer some deep insights of a psychopathic mind (fictional as it were) in exchange for trout fillet for lunch. How could one get fish in a hospital for the unworried unwell anyway?

It was well past midday and he was in his little cage. He wondered for a moment when did the interview start. Chilton was sitting in front of him in his usual wooden chair that looked extremely uncomfortable. It seemed he hadn’t spoken for a while. His face was blank and his eyes were glued to somewhere behind Will’s left shoulder.

“You are awfully quiet today, Frederick.”

It was unusual for Will to start a conversation, but the silence was a little bit too loud for Will’s taste. He was surprised to see Chilton startled a little and then quickly ran a hand down his tie to compose himself. The tie had an ugly blue-yellow pattern.

“Pardon me for not matching up your unbridled chattiness, Mr. Graham.” He spoke in that usual slick slowness of his and squinted hard at Will. “Did you enjoy your little trip to wherever you were?”

Will stretched his lips. “I would’ve asked you to come along but I doubt your constitution would bode well for fly fishing.” It was rather too close to home for Will to share this piece of memory with anyone, but he doubted Chilton could tell he was not joking.

Chilton squinted at him a bit longer. He had dark circles under his eyes. The quietness was now becoming a little annoying, but before Will lost interest and went back to his river, Chilton stood up and leaned heavily on his cane. “I will see you tomorrow, Will.” 

Will realised those three sentences were the only thing Chilton had said during their four-hour session. Today was indeed a very good day.

He got canned tuna for lunch. He barked out a laugh that bounced around his little cell almost violently. It was the first time he laughed since a very long time.


	2. And Ruin Your Sleep

He woke up from a fever dream, shaking, sheet drenched in sweat. Winston was whining quietly beside the bed. He got up numbly, pulled off his wet shirt and went on autopilot to find a clean one. There wasn’t any. Outside the window, the sky just started to turn into a lighter shade of blue, somewhere far way, he heard an animal growling. 

Will stood in front of his broken fireplace, naked, burning. Bricks started falling off the wall from the hole he had dug a long time ago, a black antler pierced through, growing and growing and growing, until it filled the entire living room. Will felt boiling blood touching his feet, he looked down and saw Winston, dead, sliced open. An ear fell out of his stomach. Someone was screaming.

Will opened his eyes and for the first time since he got there, he was genuinely glad to wake up in his small grey cell. Grey is good, grey is dull. He stared hard at the vast greyness that is his celling and tried to control his breathing. At the corner of his eye, he saw Chilton stood in front of the glass wall. (Chilton is good, Chilton is dull.)

After ten minutes, Will felt much more like himself (nowadays himself wasn’t really that much), yet Chilton was still there. Will was annoyed. He wanted to say something smart and hurtful, but when he opened his mouth, he felt something stuck in his throat (an ear maybe?). An ugly sob came out. 

For another ten minutes Will just lay there on his grey cot, staring at the celling until his eyes burned and definitely not looking at Chilton while he was having his small meltdown. He didn’t notice when it had started but at one point he heard Chilton was blabbering something. The blood in his ears was too loud for him to understand a word so he stopped trying to. It couldn’t be anything of importance anyway. And then, the words started slowly seeping through the deafening roar of his heart.

“…I never thought much of it, but those spices, something mother would describe as se me hace agua la boca, quite a blunt term really. She was a rather decent cook back then when we were living in Trinidad. It was the ugliest island, smells like charcoal and dead fish. The sun burns a hole on those naked brown chests, red dirt everywhere, sometimes even in your rice. It should really be called indios y cristianos instead of moros y cristianos given the color. To say it is an acquired taste would be the highest compliment, yet she managed to save it with a touch of comino and ajo…”

Chilton was still his usual self, nasal and arrogant, but his tone was somehow lighter, less deliberate, switching back and forth between Spanish and English in an unconscious way. Will found it almost appealing to let himself sink into that steady stream of voice and that Cuban island with its red dirt and blistering sun. After a little while, he could feel the heat on his arms, washing away the chill of his nightmare; he could almost taste cumin and garlic on the tip of his tongue instead of rotten blood and bitter ash. The air is sticky and the wind is salty. He didn’t notice that he had closed his eyes.

A pause in Chilton’s speech pulled Will gently back to reality. He asked half asleep in a hoarse whisper.

“Why did you leave Cuba?”

The question seemed to startle Chilton into taking a sudden breath. Will opened his eyes and saw him raising his eyebrows comically. At some point Chilton must have sat down on the blue plastic chair for the guards, a silver trimmed tea cup with a matching saucer stood next to him on the ground. The whole scenario was laughable. So Will laughed a little.

“You are an awful psychiatrist, Frederick. Stop trying so hard.”

“It worked, did it not?”

“You haven’t answer the question.”

“I am doubtful though if the strategy of mutual sharing creating the illusion of an equal footing could be deemed successful when the patient asks too many questions.”

Somehow Will didn’t believe Chilton’s reason for blabbering his childhood life to a panic-stricken alleged killer for almost an hour in the middle of the night was purely strategic (never mind it was clearly a one-way conversation like almost all conversations they had had).

He watched Chilton from the corner of his eye a bit longer, with his ridiculous cane and tea cup and his blue plastic chair. He wondered if Chilton might be a better psychiatrist, a better doctor than any of them had thought (not that it would matter though). He closed his eyes, tiredly.

“Go back to bed, Frederick. It’s unorthodox even for you to ruin your patient’s sleep.”

He heard the cane hit the ground but not yet moving away.

“We left because she died. Goodnight Mr. Graham.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't speak Spanish and I've never been to Trinidad. Everything is fictional, that is, in service of Chilton's narrative, so please don't be offended if you love the island. (I actually googled the most beautiful island in Cuba and fell in love with all the pictures lol.)
> 
> In an interview Raul Esparza talked about how Chilton doesn't use any contraction in his speech and I absolutely love this thing about him. But who the hell does not use contractions???
> 
> If you are a fan of "Being Alive" you might notice that I'm trying to use different phrases of lyrics as chapter titles/motifs. And to my surprise the lyrics do fit this relationship quite well!


	3. To Pull You Through Hell

Will could still feel the sodium amytal coursing through his veins, the memory of Hannibal’s treatment fresh behind his eyelids. It was one thing to know the devil, but entirely another to see for himself. To feel that plastic tube being forced down his throat, to watch Hannibal shed his human skin in his cobalt-blue dining room, in front of Leda the Swan and Abel Gideon. He felt nauseous, his tongue swollen and bitter — it’s going to make him choke any second now. He bit it hard and tasted blood. Just an illusion then.

Chilton was quiet since the moment Will told him about flashing lights and distorted clock. He stood in a corner of the treatment room, face ashen, lips pressed into a sharp line that could carve flesh. Will watched with a certain detachment as Chilton’s eyes moved around without any focus like in a dream, remembering, reexamining. He saw the moment everything clicked in Chilton’s head.

The man drew in a shaky breath, cane held stiffly in front of him like a sword (or was it a straw?).

Will realised he couldn’t stop himself from meeting Chilton’s eyes, he felt raw and exposed, nerves flayed open by the silver-toped cane. He couldn’t stop himself from doing anything now. The drug in him would reach down and down and pull out every bit of his organs, bones, and secrets. Suddenly, Hannibal doesn’t seem to be all that important now.

Chilton said something to the nurse and a second later Will found himself being released from the medical bed, IV line carefully pulled out.

“Take him back to his cell please. Nobody is allowed to talk to Mr. Graham for the next four hours.”

Will let out an ugly chuckle. “Aren’t you gonna use this chance to dissect my mind Dr. Chilton?”

Chilton met his eyes, replied almost in a whisper.

“No matter what others think, I actually prefer dissecting the sick mind of a killer. You are not one, Will.”

 

When he was finally safely alone in his cell, Will realised Chilton was the first person to believe he was not a killer. That must mean something because right now not even himself believed that and they had yet to find the rest of Abigail.

He decided it was enough honesty for one day and closed his eyes.

In the morning Chilton came back, paler than the day before. Even with a pounding headache Will could instantly tell he had dined with Hannibal. The stench of fear and paranoia rolled off him like waves.

“I hope you didn’t have anything that looks like beef, Frederick.”

“The one time I am truly thankful for Abel Gideon.” Chilton gave him a ghost of a smile, “My body cannot process animal protein anymore. I doubt even Hannibal could make human flesh pass as beets and asparagus.”

Will snorted. “That must have broken his heart, to cook a meatless meal.”

“Only if there is a heart to be broken. I have always known Hannibal to be exceptionally tolerant of unorthodox treatments but cannibalism is such a new low.”

At least someone hasn’t lost their sarcasm, Will mused. It was also the first time he had ever heard that term spoken out loud in relation to Hannibal. Somehow it made everything a little bit better, because things that can be defined and put into words are fundamentally less scary than the unspoken, the unspeakable. What is cannibalism but an act of dominance that was repeated by many? And once the silence of terror was broken, they could not stop. So they talked about Hannibal in a grim tone, making unfunny jokes and terrible puns. In the end, everything was indeed a little bit better. And Will thought he might have found something close to an ally in the person who had pulled him through hell, who was meant to be his pawn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has a lot of references to canon. It was fun and difficult to write. But from now on things are gonna go to a different direction so I'm really really glad, and tired, oh god why do I have to go to work tomorrow...
> 
> Ah and I promise in next chapter there will be more people than the two of them lol.


	4. Someone to Force You to Care

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning:  
> implied violence, description of a traumatised person, PTSD reactions.

“To be honest Mr. Graham, it’s good to be back to this lovely little cage again.”

Abel Gideon stretched his wrists backwards through the iron bars, let the nurse unlock the handcuffs. It was the same skinny, weird-looking nurse who always gave Will an eerie feeling, Matthew-something. One time Will caught him standing outside some inmate’s cell, eyes closed with a serene smile on his face. That inmate was screaming his lungs out the whole night.

Matthew-something gave the big lock on the cage a firm shake and walked away with a toothy grin. Will had the feeling that grin was meant for him. He heard the electronic doors clicked shut. Now there was only the two of them, dressed in the same grey suits, sitting in the same little cages, side by side like two specimens in a zoo.

Gideon rolled his shoulders a little, his bones creaking. “I can’t even begin to describe how dull and tasteless those doctors are in Maryland State Prison. At least Frederick was fun, especially toward the end if you know what I mean.”

Both of them were well aware that Chilton was watching their conversation from a monitor like a hawk. He hadn’t shown his face once during the whole transfer process. Will can’t say he blames him.

“Is this Frederick’s idea of punishment? Group therapy with the man who tried to kill me.”

“I was hoping we could put it behind us, Abel. I’d like to talk to you about the Chesapeake Ripper.”

“Thought I was the Chesapeake Ripper.”

“No, you are just the pretender to the throne. ” Will leaned towards Gideon’s cage, hands rested against cold metal. “I remember that night at Dr. Lecter’s, the night I brought you there.”

Gideon was silent for a moment, then, his lips stretched into a sweet smile, a glint of excitement in his baby blue eyes.

“Why don’t you get Frederick down here with us, I’m sure he’d love to be the one who finally gets to catch the Ripper. And then I will tell you all about it.” He turned his head around towards a dark corner on the high ceiling, where the camera was hidden in the shadows, and winked. “Don’t you just love a good threesome?”

 

Chilton was a bundle of nerves. He sat down stiffly ten feet away from the cages, back to the wall. The creepy nurse had carried the wooden chair in for him, moving it around until Chilton was satisfied. He seemed pretty amused by the whole thing. Chilton’s face was a brittle blankness, his knuckles bloodless around his cane.

“So it seems all the king’s horses and all the king’s men could indeed put Humpty together again. Is everything back where I found it?”

“With one or two exceptions.” Chilton tilted his head with a feigned casualness. Will had the urge to applaud his bravery. “What happened that night at Dr. Lecter’s?”

“Nothing, I was never there.”

Chilton’s face turned red for a moment, Will felt irritated.

“What’s the point of protecting the Ripper, Abel, you know he doesn’t really care about you.”

Gideon ignored Will completely. He suddenly leaned forward, hands came out of the cage, clasping together into a relaxed preyer. His eyes fixated on Chilton the whole time.

“Tell me Frederick, do I still give you a visceral chill in the guts? Whatever’s left of them.”

Chilton frowned deeply, he suddenly stood up, voice high and small.

“What is that in your hands?”

Will turned his head just in time to see a little pin slipped through Gideon’s fingers.

The lock gave a click that echoed in the room.

They both froze.

The loud bang the cage door made as it swung open finally jerked Chilton into action. He rushed to the other side of the room and pounded on the door. There was a grinning face pressed against the green-tinted small window from outside looking in, it was the nurse from earlier. He was the one who had given Gideon the pin, Will realised with clenched teeth.

It seemed Chilton had reached the same conclusion because suddenly he stopped moving all together, just stood there, facing the locked door and the grinning lunatic (he waved his fingers at them), unbreathing, dead-still, while Gideon strode towards him lazily from behind like he was taking a walk in the park on a sunny day.

Will teared his eyes away and looked around frantically. After too long he finally saw the small pin lying on the ground between the two cages. He grabbed it in one go and went for the lock. His hands were slippery.

He tried to block out the sounds.

When he finally got out, Gideon had Chilton pressed against the wall and was whispering something in his ear. Will grabbed Gideon’s collar and yanked him violently away. Chilton remained unmoving, face rested on the wall, eyes closed.

Will picked up the dropped cane and inserted himself between Chilton and a now wide-eyed Gideon, it was heavier than he had thought.

“Oh would you look at that. What’s it to you to protect _him_ , Mr Graham? Hasn’t he studied you enough?” Gideon asked amusingly, he gave a little shrug, “Well, you know you can’t stop me.”

Will let out a dark chuckle and said sweetly, “The thing is, Abel, you can’t touch me. Have you ever thought about what the Ripper would do if he found out you harmed his favourite pet-project?”

Gideon’s face grew serious, “Then would you mind moving to the left just a little bit? I have some unfinished business with Dr. Chilton.”

“I do mind actually. I need him alive.”

Gideon huffed out a breath, frustrated. They stood there in a silent standoff for about two minutes, and then the door opened, Matthew-something stuck his head in.

“Would you just hurry the fuck up? The guards are coming down any second now.”

Gideon closed his eyes for a brief moment. Eventually he sighed, gave one last longing look past Will’s shoulder, and walked out the door the nurse held open for him.

The door clicked shut again.

Will turned around. Chilton was now sitting on the ground with his back pressed against the wall, his arms around his legs. Will leaned down to touch his shoulder. The man flinched so hard Will had to take a step back.

“Okay, okay…” Will slowly lowered himself to the ground and sat down beside Chilton, he noticed there was some blood on the wall and on Chilton’s face. His eyes were blank and unseeing. Will felt a twist in his gut.

For a moment Will was lost. He thought Chilton would know what to do under such circumstances (Hannibal would know too), and decided to start talking. He had no idea what he was saying, probably something about ship motors and engine oils, but it had helped him in the past when their roles were reversed so he kept going. After a while he saw Chilton’s hands stopped shaking, instead they were now doing a weird little motion, fingers rubbing against palm over and over again, so he picked up the cane and passed it over carefully. Chilton immediately latched onto it, held it horizontally with both hands close to his chest. That’s when Will noticed the small scratch marks around the lower half of the cane. They were thin and irregular, always two or three together parallel to each other. Will suddenly remembered wet noses and soft paws scratching against wood.

“Do you have a pet Frederick?”

After a long, long moment Chilton managed to give him a little nod, Will was surprised he was present enough to do that.

“Dog or cat?” Will smiled to himself, “Oh wait, I bet it’s a cat, right? You seem like a cat person, and by that, I mean a real bastard. I found a cat once, or rather she found me. It was during the big storm last year, she just came to my porch, dripping wet, meowing so loud it made the whole gang go crazy. I was worried, them hurting that poor thing by accident, but she came in and ruled the place, drinking from Buster’s bowl and sniffing around Winston. I think they were all a bit afraid of her.”

“What happened to her?”

Will turned around to see green eyes looking at him, tired, but clear green eyes. He felt relieved.

“After three days the storm was over, so she left. Never seen her again.”

Will watched as Frederick slowly picked himself up, leaning against the wall for support. The cut above his eye brow had stopped bleeding. He straightened his tie and brushed a hand through his hair. They both heard someone in the hallway approaching the door.

Frederick met Will’s eyes again and whispered softly, “Maybe you should better get back inside the cage, Will, they will taser you if they see you here.”

Will nodded in silence, stood up and went back inside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe this chapter turned out to be this long compared to the others. Pat myself on the back three times. :)
> 
> This AU happened under the assumption that Matthew Brown wasn't obsessed with Will or Hannibal but rather was a fanboy of Gideon. Drama ensued!
> 
> I went back to see how the cages look like in the series, and they were using actual big metal lock that hang off the cage door. And the bars were so wide that prisoner could easily reach out and grab the lock. I laughed a little, but it fits the story well so whatever.
> 
> And the cat was finally mentioned, now I can die a happy human. For the next chapter I will even try to get the cat to make an appearance. Fingers crossed.
> 
> Have a nice Eastern everybody.


	5. Someone to Know You Too Well

Frederick canceled their daily session for the next three days. Will figured it’s probably hard for him to go back to that room so soon after what had happened. 

He had never paid attention to how much their session filled up most of his day (not because it was that long but because it always gave Will something to think about afterwards). Now with the absence of it, Will was utterly and completely isolated. No human interaction whatsoever except the occasional words with nurses when they drop off his meals. He was bored out of his mind, and also a little bit worried (these days he was constantly worried about everything and nothing, so he tried not to dwell on specific reasons).

On the fourth day, Will was brought back to the cage-room by a nurse. Jack was waiting for him. Will noticed there were new deadbolt locks installed on the cages.

“I’m here to take your statement of the incident that led to Gideon’s escape.” Jack said in lieu of greeting, voice cold and official.

Will gave a small nod, sat down as he watched the deadbolt slid into place with a loud click.

“Matthew Brown turned off the security camera when Dr. Chilton came down here, so I’ll need you to walk me through everything that happened.” Jack sounded tired and a little disinterested.

“Not much happened. Gideon managed to get out using a pin. He threatened Chilton physically and then left.”

Jack gave him a sceptical look. “So you’re saying that Gideon did nothing more than knock him around a little and then just walked out here in broad daylight.”

“What do you want me to say, Jack?”

“Do you realise this is the second time Gideon has escaped from Dr. Chilton’s care? This doesn’t look good.”

“And we both know how Chilton paid the price after the first time, don’t we?”

Jack’s expression turned dark. It still seemed to be a sore spot for him, a reminder of his negligence (and his indifference). He remained silent for a moment, changing tactics.

“Why was Gideon transferred back here in the first place?”

Will rolled his neck around a little, Gideon’s words curled up on his tongue like a poisonous snake.

“Dr. Chilton thought it would do us both some good to have a group therapy. I did tried to kill Gideon once if you still remember, Jack.”

 

When Jack walked away with less information and a lot more frustration than he had had, Will was left alone in the cage for a while. He reflected upon everything that happened since the day he had seen Hannibal clearly for the first time. Will found it funny that somehow it was Hannibal who changed his relationship with everyone around him. When his eyes were finally open to Hannibal’s truth, they were also open to the truth of other people (some good, some bad). He wondered if there was still someone left he could call a friend, if there was still someone he could respect (and love).

The door opened and Will expected to see a nurse came in to take him back to the cell. Instead, he saw Frederick standing there in his usual impeccable three-piece suit, cane in one hand. 

His other hand was holding a little ball of black fur close to his chest.

The expression on Will’s face must have been pretty wild because Frederick snorted out a laugh as he came closer to the cage. 

“Niña, meet Will. Will, this is Niña.”

Frederick dropped the fur ball gently on the ground which uncurled itself into a small black kitten. The kitten immediately came up to the cage and sniffed the hand Will stretched out through the bars curiously. He felt her wet nose and her soft whiskers tickling his palm. 

Will looked up with a smile so big he felt it could split his face in two. Frederick’s ears turned pink a little.

“You must miss your dogs, and last time you told me about this cat you had, so I thought she might be able to, uh, to…” 

It’s the first time Will saw him searching for words. His smile grew even bigger.

“Frederick, thank you.”

Frederick gave him a mirroring smile and went to pick up the kitten who was now trying to climb up Will’s cage. Up close, Will could see the bruise on his face had turned into an ugly shade of green, the cut had pretty much healed up. 

“Would you like to hold her?” 

Not waiting for a response, Frederick already passed the kitten through the gap between two bars. Will felt a warm weight landed on his thigh. Her fur was indeed as soft as it looked.

“How long have you had her?”

“Eight month. My sister forced her on me after my hospital stay last year, she said if I have something to look after, then maybe I will finally learn to look after myself. Her cat had just delivered six kittens and Niña was the weakest. I was in no shape to take good care of her and sometimes I was so worried she would just die. Luckily she is smart enough to survive me, so far.”

Will let his hand run through Niña’s fur over and over again. He almost forgot how good it felt to touch another live being, to feel the warmth, to feel her purr.

“I think she really likes you, despite the smell of seven dogs.”

Will laughed and looked up to see Frederick looking down at Niña with a soft expression on his face.

And for now, it was enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The cat has finally showed up I'm so happy I could cry. Sometimes I wonder if the whole point of this fic is to write about the cat.
> 
> La niña means little girl in Spanish. I literally couldn't think of a better cat name, God it's sad. And the inspiration comes from a friend of mine who's from Venezuela, who named his dog Chico. Technically the inspired name would be Chica but I just couldn't bare the idea of Chilton saying Chica the whole time.
> 
> Anyway, that's that.
> 
> It's sort of a conscious decision to use "Frederick" in the narrative from now on instead of "Chilton" like in the first four chapters. You may have already spotted it, but this change happened in the end of Chapter 4. I hope it's not too crude. ;)


	6. Someone to Make You Come Through

In the end, the whole Will-Graham-is-a-psychopath setup had a very anticlimactic finalé. But Will knew the whole show was not over yet, they were only at the end of Act II.

Hannibal wanted him out, so he was out, to be used and moved around for the final kill like a chess piece. He remembered a triptych he had once seen in DC, _The Garden of Earthly Delights_ by Hieronymus Bosch. One of the three panels showed scenery from hell. There was a man strung up on a giant harp, strings neatly pierced through his naked body one by one, waiting to be plucked by the devil. Will kind of knew how the guy felt.

Frederick was there when Will walked out of his grey cell (hopefully) for the last time, on his own, wearing his own cloth. They stared at each other for a while (or rather Frederick stared at Will and Will stared at Frederick’s right shoulder), neither was willing to break that frail and precious silence. Eventually Frederick’s right hand gave a little twitch, then it went up with a nervous certainty. Will’s gaze traveled up from the offered hand and landed in a pool of translucent green.

As his hand clasped firmly into Frederick’s, they both let out a breath simultaneously.

(His hand was cool to the touch. It was calming.)

“Happy as I am to see your innocence was proven, I cannot help but think you are walking right into danger.” Frederick said in a hushed voice after he let go of Will’s hand.

“At this point, nowhere is safe.” Will still hasn’t broken the eye contact yet, he had no idea why.

Frederick drew in a breath, determined. “How can I help?”

Will frowned. He thought nobody knew better than Frederick that bravery equals stupidity.

“You can’t. Stay as far away from all of this as you can, like your life depends on it. Don’t talk to Hannibal. Don’t even talk to Jack, he won’t believe anything unless I can prove it. And I will prove it.”

“How?”

Will stretched his lips into something close to a smile. “Fly fishing, Dr. Chilton. I’m a very good fisherman.”

 

Three days later, when Frederick showed up at his doorstep covered in blood, trembling like a piece of feather on a fishing lure about to be swollen by black waves, Will wondered suddenly if catching Hannibal meant he’d have to become Captain Ahab from _Moby Dick_. He thought about cost and losses and let the man in.

Frederick walked through the swarm of dogs with a very bad limp, but Will figured he wouldn’t appreciate any physical contact judging from the state of his clothes so he didn’t raise a hand. Frederick dropped the travel bag in front of the fireplace and all strength went out of him in a single breath. He looked like he would fall face down on the floor any second now.

“Would you like to sit down?” Will really didn't want him face down on his floor.

“I would rather not get blood on your couch…”

Frederick’s voice shook, suddenly he started to unbutton his shirt. Will was afraid he was going to strip right in the middle of his living room, but then he noticed a small lump in front of Frederick’s chest. Two buttons down, a small head stuck out. Will stared.

Frederick’s hand shook so much as he tried to put her on the floor, the kitten struggled and scratched him a little, hissing loudly. She was not right.

“He kicked her away, when he was, when I…” Frederick stopped. They both watched as Niña ran away to the corner of the room, back tense like a bow, tail down.

“Would you look after her?”

Will turned to Frederick, surprised.

“Are you going somewhere?”

“Europe, or jail. It really depends on how things turn out. But first, may I use your shower?”

When Frederick was upstairs in the shower, Will made tea and checked on Niña and the dogs. They seemed to be equally curious and terrified at the sight of her, a tiny furry ball of anger. Will poured some milk in a bowl and left it on the kitchen floor. He also poured some milk in Frederick’s tea.

After shower and tea and some explanation, Frederick finally sat down on his couch tensely. They fell silent for a long moment, each deep in thought.

“Are you going to call Jack?” Frederick asked suddenly in a very neutral voice.

Will searched for begging in his eyes but couldn’t find any, he thought about it for a while.

“No. I don’t trust him.”

Frederick released a breath, looked away. “I was thinking somewhere in Spain, Barcelona maybe.”

“You won’t last very long, on the run.”

“What choice do I have?” Frederick suddenly met his eyes, his voice angry and high.

“Stay here.” The words were out of his mouth before the thought even took a shape. But Will didn’t look away.

Frederick stared at him, speechless for a minute. Then slowly, he put his head back on the couch rest and closed his eyes.

As Will stood up to make some more tea, he heard a whispered “Thank you”.

In the kitchen, Will saw Niña somehow found Winston’s cushion and curled up on it. The shepherd laid in front of it, head rested on paws.

Maybe, just maybe, everything will be ok in the end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Check out the painting by Bosch, it's really dope.
> 
> I forgot Frederick can't have animal protein and let Will put milk in his tea. Let's just assume Will also forgot (And a little bit milk in tea shouldn't hurt anyone).
> 
> Now I've finally turned Hannibal into a real monster. Cannibalism is nothing. HE KICKED A KITTEN!


End file.
